"O tror-O trorsy-O trorsy-Oh! dear me!" muttered he in a tone of despair.

"" ème," said Mrs. P.
"Aim," said he.

"Well ?" said Mrs. P.

"O trorsyaim," said he.

"That's very well, indeed!" said Mrs. Potiphar, and they went out of the room. I joined them in the hall, and we ran on before Mr. P., but we soon heard some one speaking, and stopped.

"Monsieur, veut il prendre un commissionnaire?" Kattery-vang-sank," replied Mr. Potiphar, with great

emphasis.

"Comment?" said the other.

“O tror―0 tror-Oh! Polly-seeaim-seeaim !" returned Mr. P.

"You speak English?" said the commissionnaire.

"Why! good God! do you?" asked Mr. P., with astonishment.

"I speaks every languages, sare," replied the other, and we will use de English, if you ples. But Monsieur speaks très bien de French language.

"Are you speaking English now?" asked Mr. Potiphar. The commissionnaire answered him that he was,—and Mr. P. thrust his arm through that of the commissionnaire and said

"My dear sir, if you are disengaged I should be very glad if you would accompany me in my walks through the town." "Mr. Potiphar!" said Polly, "come!"

"Coming, my dear," answered he, as he approached with the commissionnaire. It was in vain that Mrs. P. winked and frowned. Her husband would not take hints. So taking his other arm, and wishing the commissionnaire good morning, she tried to draw him away. But he clung to his companion and said,

"Polly, this gentleman speaks English."

"Don't keep his arm," whispered she; "he is only a servant."

Servant, indeed!" said he; "you should have heard him speak French, and you see how gentlemanly he is."

It was some time before Polly was able to make her husband comprehend the case.

"Ah!" said he at length; "Oh! I understand."

It would charm you to hear how intelligently Mrs. P. speaks about French society, though she has only seen it from a distance. When we return, you will find how accomplished she is. We've been here only a few weeks, and we already know all the fashionable shops, and a little more French, and we go to the confectioners, and eat savarins every morning at 12, and we drive in the Bois de Boulogne in the afternoon, and we dine splendidly, and in the evening we go to the opera or a theatre. To be sure we don't have much society beside our own party. But then the shop-girls point out the distinguished women to Mrs. Potiphar, so that she can point them out when we drive; and our banker calls and keeps us up in gossip; and Mrs. Potiphar's maid, Adèle, is inestimable in furnishing information; and Mr. Potiphar gets a great deal out of his commissionnaire, and goes about studying his Galignani's Guide, and frequents the English Reading Room, where, I am told, he makes himself a little conspicuous when he finds that Englishmen won't talk, by saying, "Oh! dear me!" and wiping his face with a bandanna. He usually opens his advances by making sure of an Englishman, and saying, "Bong mating, but, perhaps, sir, you don't speak French." "You evidently do not, sir," replied one gentleman.

"No, sir; you're right there," answered Mr. P. But he couldn't get another word from his companion.

The other day he was taken to a darkened room in a grand old house, in a lonely, aristocratic street; and there a picture agent showed him a splendid Nicolas Poussin, painted in his prime for the family, whose heir in reduced circumstances must now part with it at a tearful sacrifice. Honored P.'s friend, the commissionnaire, interprets this story, while the agent stands sadly meditating the sacrifice with which his duty acquaints him. He informs the good P., through the friendly commissionnaire, that he has been induced to offer him the picture, not only because all Americans have so fine a taste (as his experience has proved to him) in paintings, nor because they are so much more truly munificent than the nobility of other nations, but because the heir in reduced circumstances wishes to think of the picture as entirely removed from the possibility of being seen in France. Family pride, which is almost crushed in disposing of so great and valued a work, would be entirely quenched if the sale were to be known, and the picture recognized elsewhere in the country. Monsieur is a gentleman, and he will understand the feelings of a gen

tleman under such circumstances.-The agent adds that it is not unusual for the owner to visit the picture about that very hour to hear what chance there is for its sale. If this knock should be he, it would not be very remarkable. The heir enters. He has a very heavy moustache, dark hair, and a slightly Hebrew cast of countenance.

Mr. Potiphar is introduced. The heir contemplates the picture sadly, and he and the agent point out its beauties to each other. In fine, my honored Potiphar buys the work of art. To any one else, of course, in France, for instance, the price should be eleven thousand francs. But the French and the Americans have fraternized; a thousand francs shall be deducted.

Mr. Potiphar is delighted with his bargain, and when asked where the thing shall be sent, says, in a loud, slow voice"Hotel Miureece, Kattery-vang-sank-o-trorsy aim." GEO. W. CURTIS.

LXXXII.—A TOURNAMENT.

THE lists presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful, in the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendor.

The heralds ceased their proclamation with their usual cry of "largesse, largesse, gallant knights;" and gold and silver pieces were showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry to exhibit liberality towards those whom

the

age accounted at once the secretaries and the historians of honor. The bounty of the spectators was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of Ladies-Death of Champions Honor to the Generous-Glory to the Brave!" To which the more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of trumpeters, the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering procession, and none rcmained within them, save the marshals of the field, who, armed

cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues, at the opposite end of the lists. Meantime, the inclosed space at the northern extremity of the lists, large as it was, was now completely crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill against the challengers, and when viewed from the galleries, presented the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.

At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot, entered slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed; they advanced through the lists, restraining their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the the same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and dexterity of their riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound of a wild barbaric music was heard, from behind the tents of the challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of eastern origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the cymbals and bells, seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance to the knights as they advanced up to the platform upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to which he wished to oppose himself. The lower order of spectators in general-nay, many of the higher, and it is even said several of the ladies, were rather disappointed at the champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of persons, who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in. proportion to the danger incurred by the champions engaged.

Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line; while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the platform, and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had touched their respective shields.

At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each other at full gallop; and such was the superior

dexterity or good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to break his weapon athwart the person of his opponent a circumstance which was accounted more disgraceful than being actually unhorsed; because the one might happen from accident, whereas the other evinced awkardness, and want of management of the weapon and of the horse. The fifth knight alone mantained the honor of his party, and parted fairly with the knight of St. John, both splintering their lances without advantage on either side.

The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the heralds, and the clangor of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the victors, and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could, withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which, according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth of the number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted with the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated, to the aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.

A second and third party of knights took to field; and although they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly remained with the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat or swerved from the charge-misfortunes which befell one or two of their antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed to them seemed to be considerable damped by their success. Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves with touching those of the three other knights, who had not altogether manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection did not alter the luck of the field, the challengers were still successful; one of their antagonists was overthrown, and both the others failed in the attaint, that is in striking the helmet and shield of their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.

After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it appear that any one was desirous of renew